Les Sylphides
by flax
Summary: Sylphes, wishes, curses, Mrs Snape and a masque ball. What could possibly go wrong? (Complete with chapter 9)
1. A Dinner Annoucement

Les Sylphides: Chapter One: A Dinner Announcement  
  
by flax, May 2003.  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)   
  
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a/n: I was reading here at fanfiction.net, and a WIKTT challenge posted here became a springboard for this story. :) Thank you to SinhoBadaro who provided the springboard & Andrian who mentioned it. :) I hope this story provides some entertainment to readers. :)   
  
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The mood in the great hall was giddy as Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter walked in for dinner. Students were bustling and the hum of conversation was high.   
  
"Is that Fudge at the main table?" asked Hermione as Ron and Harry crained their necks to look. And, yes, it was Cornelius Fudge at the head table, beside Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry. Beside Fudge on the other side, glowering impressively even in comparison to his ordinary evil looks, was Severus Snape, the potions master of said school.  
  
"Do you think Fudge drives him nuts?" asked Harry.  
  
"If he gives Snape an ounce of irritation, that would be the first good thing I'd heard of Cornelius Fudge," replied Ron.  
  
Hermione turned to Parvati and asked her what was going on.   
  
"You didn't hear?" asked Neville.  
  
"Been in the library" Hermione replied. But before Neville or anyone else could explain, Dumbledore had risen to his feet and begun to speak.  
  
"It is with great pleasure that I welcome the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, to join us here tonight at Hogwarts for dinner.  
  
"He is here with a great surprise. Hogwarts will be hosting a festival gala for the Sylph as the Sylph pass through England as part of their seasonal progressions.   
  
"This Friday the Sylphes will arrive at a reception to be given for the Ministry of Magic, here in this very hall. But more importantly to you all, on Saturday and Sunday, the Sylphes have graciously accepted the invitation to talk to us about their lives.  
  
"Everyone interested in this special opportunity, and I suspect that is nearly all of you, please sign-up with your head of house for the opening lecture so that you can be assigned into smaller discussion groups for the afternoon when the sylphs will join us for some question and answer time.  
  
"I am sure that you are, like me, thrilled at this opportunity.  
  
"So, again, welcome Cornelius Fudge, minister of magic."  
  
Fudge stood, with an overwhelmed manner at the affection being shown. He shook Dumbledore's hand while the student and faculty applauded. Under cover of applause there was a great deal of fast discussion.  
  
"They say it's going to be a huge ball," said Padma.  
  
"A costume ball," said Parvati.  
  
"And we aren't invited," said Neville with a sigh.  
  
"Who says?" asked Ron.  
  
The clapping faded and Ron had to wait for his answer.   
  
"Children," began Fudge.  
  
That didn't go over so well. But Harry noticed that Snape seemed to almost cheer up.  
  
"Snape thinks Fudge is a kindred soul," whispered Harry to Ron.  
  
"More like he thinks Fudge is an idiot," whispered Rob back.  
  
"Too bad he can't deduct house points from him," whispered Hermione.  
  
Blithe and uncaring, Cornelius Fudge continued: "Thank you all, your faculty and headmaster Dumbledore for having me here tonight. And thank you headmaster Dumbledore for seeing me on such short notice so we could take advantage of this great opportunity.   
  
"I wish my schedule would allow me to spend more time with you here, for you are our precious children and their learned faculty. I'm glad we have your faculty and staff, great people who can devote their time and attention to your learning and growth. What a wonderful place this is, I have always said.  
  
"You are our most special..." Fudge droned on while Hermione quietly got the news from Parvati. McGonagall had entered the Gryffindor common room before dinner and announced all this, plus that the Saturday sign up was mandatory, and that the ball on Friday was for guests of the ministry of magic only and no students could attend.  
  
"She told us this was a 'diplomatic affair,'" said Padma, imitating McGonagall's more warning voice.  
  
Parvati continued, explaining that curfew would be early, breaking it would result in an 'especially unpleasant' detention. And not to be alarmed by the strange sights that night.  
  
"A costume ball!" whispered Padma with excitement.  
  
"Padma asked if there was anyway we could go," whispered Colin Creevey from across the table.  
  
"And?" prompted Hermione. Fudge was still announcing what a wonderful thing this all was at the front of the room.  
  
"We can't even volunteer to help out," said Parvati woefully.  
  
"A great party, and we can't even see. I call that unfair," added Padma.  
  
"Too dangerous," murmured Neville.  
  
"Huh?" asked Ron.  
  
"That's what McGonagall said. It was too dangerous to have Merlin-knows-who on the grounds and students lost in the mix," explained Padma.  
  
The Gryffindors looked at each other and smiled. They, like nearly every student in the room, had ideas about that.  
  
Fudge eventually finished speaking, sat down to the dutiful applause and dinner commenced.   
  
TBC... 


	2. Masquing Spells

Les Sylphides, Chapter Two: Masquing Spells.  
  
by flax, 2003.  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp.   
  
After dinner, Hermione arranged to meet Ron and Harry later in the library. After they'd gotten a chance to find out all they could. So while the boys were finding out what they could about sylphs and masquing spells, Hermione was chatting with the Parvils. But they didn't know much more yet, either. Soon Hermione was off to the library.  
  
"Full masque," she answered to Ron's question as the boys were working out what spells were possibilities and what spells were not.   
  
"Why are we doing this?" asked Harry, not completely enjoying the idea of dressing up.  
  
"To see the adults act like idiots?" answered Ron.  
  
"To see the costumes?" answered Hermione.  
  
"I'm going to read about sylphs," said Harry, still disgusted. So while Ron figured out spells and Hermione figured out why they wouldn't work, Harry prowled off. A few minutes later he prowled back, a copy of _Sylphs_and_Wizards:_Before_the_Six_Hundred_Year_Peace_ in hand.  
  
"You're never going to believe this!" he said in a whisper.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked up.  
  
"Have either of you heard of a wizard/sylph war?"  
  
"That's old news," said Ron. "And according to my parents, it wasn't much of a war."  
  
"Not much of a war?" asked Hermione.   
  
"It says here," started Harry, planting the book open on the table and pointing to a passage, "wizards used to track down the sylphs, looking for the their source of youth, and the sylphs would kill them."  
  
"My mum says that it's a 'spiritual youth' that the sylphs had -- not a real fountain of youth thing," said Ron, who was still beginning to become curious.  
  
"Sylphs killed wizards?" asked Hermione, scanning the page.  
  
"That's what it says," said Harry.  
  
"It might even tell you that you're idiot -- but that you wouldn't believe," put in Goyle who rounded a shelf of books to look at his least favorite Gryffindors.  
  
"If it told me you were slug bait, I might begin to believe," sneered Potter back.  
  
"It's your idiotic beliefs that will keep you from going anywhere, Potter," said Malfoy, following Goyle out of the stacks. The two swept on.  
  
"Spreading crankiness wherever they go," said Hermione.  
  
"So about this source of youth, does it say what it is?" asked Ron eagerly.  
  
"Just some legend about bathing in the light and being reborn."  
  
"Sounds fun," said Ron.  
  
"It's got a title: 'The Light of the Sylphs.'"  
  
"Now that sounds cool!" upgraded Ron.  
  
"We bathe in the light all the time," protested Hermione. "There has to be something about how this light is special?"  
  
"Only that it was given to a wizard safe keeping as part of some pledge of peace, with the understanding that the keeper would provide it to the sylphs during their great cycles. They need it to move on, or else they fade."  
  
"Do you see the name of the wizard?" asked Hermione, her eyes large.  
  
"I've never heard of Rolanza Ravenclaw before," replied Harry.  
  
"Does that mean the Light of the Sylphs is here?" asked Ron. The three stared at each other. After another hour of research, the three didn't have an answer to that question. But they suspected a resounding, "yes," so the trio returned to the question of masquing spells.  
  
"I still don't want to dress up. I'll just wear the invisibility cloak," said Harry.  
  
"But then you can't talk to the adults who are acting like idiots," said Ron.  
  
"Looking for a down side," said Harry.  
  
"You can't get the elves to get your food," said Hermione.  
  
"That's a down side," said Harry, returning to the spell book. He and Ron took notes so that Hermione could take the book and spend the night working with Padma and Parvati on their costumes.  
  
"Why can't this charm work twice in a single month?" asked Harry, realizing there wouldn't be a test run on this.  
  
"It prevents people from showing up to a party like this in the same costume," answered Hermione. The boys rolled their eyes. Hermione rolled her eyes at them. Parvati and Padma dropped by their table soon, reminding them that they were waiting for Hermione to drop by with the spell book.  
  
"Parvati, why can't I go invisible?" asked Harry.  
  
"Silly," said Parvati, "you can. But then who will see you?"  
  
"You can take the book, we're done, I think," said Ron helpfully.  
  
"What are you going as?" Padma asked them, taking the book. Ron and Harry gave a few general ideas they'd written down. Then they all looked at Hermione.   
  
"I was going to go with the random spell," said Hermione.   
  
"Drop by when you come back to the dorm, we'll argue you out of that!" said Parvati, chuckling.  
  
Later that night, Hermione joined the Parvil twins to chat about costumes, but instead found them beside themselves with news.   
  
"We know why the ball is here," said Padma conspiratorially.  
  
"You will never guess," said Parvati. The pair were bursting.   
  
"Tell me," said Hermione, very curious.  
  
"You know about sylphs marrying humans?" asked Padma.  
  
"Sylphs marry humans?" asked Hermoine in confusion.  
  
"It's usually quite romantic," said Parvati.  
  
"The wizard goes off and dances with the sylphs, achieves a spiritual union, and becomes part of their flock," explained Padma.  
  
"That's romantic," agreed Hermione.  
  
"The down side is that the wizard could die," added Parvati.  
  
"That's less romantic," said Hermione.  
  
"You want to guess what's anti-romantic?" asked Parvati with a glint.  
  
"I don't really want to know, do I?" responded Hermione.  
  
"Snape is married to a sylph," finished Padma.  
  
"According to Marcia Skeeter, it was some big society scandal years back, him running out and doing that and all," said Parvati.  
  
Hermione processed for a moment before reacting. "Ugh. I pity the sylph."  
  
The girls shared a group cringe. "That doesn't explain why the ball would be here," said Hermione a moment later.  
  
"No one leaves the sylphs," said Padma.  
  
"You can't think that anyone is going to kidnap professor Snape," said Hermione incredulously.   
  
"We hope!" said the girls.  
  
They all paused, looked at each other, burst out laughing, and got back to the costume book. That theory was too impossible.  
  
tbc... 


	3. Les Sylphides

Les Sylphides: Chapter Three: Les Sylphides  
  
by flax, June 2003.  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)   
  
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Hermione and the boys met in the corner of an out of the way classroom, waiting for curfew to come and go. They hid behind the cloak of invisibility and were unnoticed even by a professor who looked in the room. Once the guests began to arrive, the professors' patrols seemed to abate, and the trio felt comfortable to start working on their spells.  
  
"Are you really going to go with the random costume?" asked Harry.  
  
"Sure," said Hermione. "I must admit, I'm curious how it will turn out, more then I am curious about the other options." Hermione looked over her short list of back up charms.  
  
"You first," said Ron to Harry, while he still tried to settle on a costume.  
  
"Magister ignotus" said Harry, and he stood there, suddenly, an old man in a simple grey robe. His hair was long and white. And he stared in confusions at his hands, one of which had a lantern, and the other a cane.  
  
"Do you feel old?" asked Ron.  
  
"No," said Harry, stretching a bit. "But what am I?"  
  
"Hermit," guessed Ron.  
  
"Is that a star in your lantern?" asked Hermione.  
  
They examined it, and yes, it appeared to be a faint star in his lantern, twinkling and odd looking up close like this.  
  
"Your turn," said Harry to Ron.  
  
Ron concentrated a few moments and then said "Imperceptius, no." And was suddenly in extremely preppy clothes. Formal wear for the yacht. He wore a blazer with the traditional pocket embroidery, the neck scarf, and the obligatory sockless dockers. His now golden hair contrasted with his now well-tanned skin.  
  
"Holy smokes," he said to the mirror. "I wonder if I can get a sun burn through this."   
  
"Not in the next three hours tonight for which it will last," said Harry, poking at the blazer. "That is odd."  
  
"Odder to be wearing it," he said, windmilling his arms.  
  
"What were you aiming for?" asked Hermione.  
  
"A pirate," answered Ron.   
  
Harry sniggered. Ron glared. And on this face, it registered as insufferable ennui. "At least I'm unrecognizable," said Ron. "You're turn," he then said to Hermione.  
  
She took on last look at her spell before casting it on herself. "Incognitus."  
  
The boys blinked. Hermione looked in the mirror. It was unexpected.  
  
"I was expecting to be a famous wizard or something," said Hermione.  
  
"I'm glad I didn't do that spell," said Harry. Ron blinked again.   
  
"I don't get it," he said.  
  
"I think I'm going to the ball as a sylph," said Hermione.  
  
"I hope no one gets offended," said Harry, his hermit face beginning to frown.  
  
"At one of these things?" said Ron with asperity. "You've got to be kidding. Everyone is going to be completely loony. Let's go!"  
  
And so the trio snuck out of the classroom, down the corridor, and into the mass of adults milling about outside the great hall. At first they tried to act like adults, but it quickly became clear that this was setting them apart from the adults. So they just went with the flow and acted giddy and goofy.  
  
They entered via one of the side chambers, avoiding the official receiving line, and the magical announcement of names. Something they thought better to sidestep under the circumstances.  
  
The boys headed right in, making Hermione promise to follow as soon as she was done admiring the view. And to the tables of food they went. Hermione though paused and just took it all in.   
  
It outshown her expectations of grand. And also surprisingly wild. The decorations were ornate, beyond measure, beyond experience, even the experiences with the Headmaster's sense of festivity. Greenery curled about every column and flowers filled every bower. And every fixture. Some seemed simply to grow out of the flat walls. The candles gleamed golden while silver will o'wisps danced, casting between them a rainbow of shadows and gleams. The gentle lights only increased the sense that this was a dream, outside regular amazements, even Hogwarts amazements. Hermione found herself thinking this was a lovely night, but she wouldn't want to live this way.  
  
Once her impression of the decor faded, she took in her impression of the guests. The partygoers appeared as all manner of beings, and in all style of charm. There was a Jonah figure, his head emerging from a fish body. Maybe he was a merman, Hermione could not tell, but he floated with ease in this sea of chaos.  
  
There was also what had to be a Merlin with Nimue upon his arm. Hermione gasped at the oddity but also enjoyed it. She thought she saw the Parvil sisters below when she spotted the "Rainbow's Daughter" and the Ash-tree dryad. Hermione looked forward to comparing notes later, but in the mean time she just kept looking and storing the completely oddity of it all.  
  
There was a swan mai, a woman in a long feather tunic. Until she transformed into the swan. And also a Valkyrie. And there chatting with Hercules had to be a Roman general of some sort, both chinking in their buckles and shields.  
  
Hermione giggled to spot a pirate from the Pirates of Penzance. She was pretty sure of that as she could faintly make out his singing the chorus from the end of the second act. Hermione continued to amuse herself, trying to match costume to character, slowly getting ready to wander into the masque, identities unknown.  
  
On her way down the stairs, she bumped Cupid, mid aim, and he shot a shepherdess. "So sorry," said Hermione. The shepherdess meanwhile traced the source of the magical arrow sticking out of her arm, and then proceeded to kiss the lion to whom she had been speaking. Who proceeded to posture himself not at all like a lion.  
  
"Good shot!" said Cupid to Hermione happily. She smiled and kept going.  
  
At the tables of food she choose not to spend much time with Harry and Ron who were mostly trying to fake out adults and chat with them. While she looked for the Parvils, a Green-Man asked Hermione to dance.   
  
Mid waltz he asked her if her flock ever watched Quiddich games and if she had a favorite team.  
  
Soon after Hermione retreated up to a balcony from which she could see, but out of the glare of aggressive flirting and din of cheery chatter. She leaned against a pillar and relaxed into watching without pretending to belong.   
  
A few minutes later, bunting pulled apart above and a stained glass window was revealed. Light dawned behind it and it glowed brilliant. The window was a kaleidoscope of colors, bathing the room in shimmering glows shifting and pulsing, turning the light of the room into an image of the window. The crowd gathered murmured in appreciation, and then the sylphs arrived.  
  
They stood, without costumes, at the entrance and proceeded in with slow grace. The sound of the announcer was like music as the strange sight filled everyone's eyes. There was a wildness to the sylphs which seemed out of sorts with the careless tenor of the party. And before Hermione could figure out she meant by that, one name distracted her.  
  
"Lady Melusina Snape."  
  
The names flowed on, but Hermione stopped attending and instead reconsidered the insane theories she, Padma and Parvati had imagined not two nights before.  
  
tbc...  
  
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a/n: thanks for the reviews, Nightcrawler & TheCheeseman. Go for it, Nightcrawler: Rowling's crowd of characters makes a nice ensemble. 


	4. Every Retreat an Advance

Les Sylphides, chapter 4: Every Retreat is an Advance  
  
by flax, June 2003  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)   
  
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Hermione was not the only one completely transfixed by the vision of the Sylphs dancing in the shifting light of the kaleidoscope window above the room. The silence of the room was not respect; the critical mass of the party was not capable of respect at this time. Rather it was wonder. Pure, clean, blown over wonder. Oddly enough, perhaps shared by the sylphs dancing in the cascading light of the full moon on a midsummer eve.  
  
When the dance broke apart and involved the rest of the willing, the murmur came back up and the party had somehow shifted a trace. It had become softer and a trace more merry as the masque shifted from hiding to meeting. Perhaps it was the result of the entrance of a mass of strangers. Whatever the reason, Hermione felt the mood change and considered returning to the party proper and her friends. She peeled out of her nook and went looking for the way back down. On her balcony stairs she met a Cheshire cat who made Peeves seem a friendly presence. He appeared, he disappeared, he grinned, he faded, he distracted: he generally got in her way every time she tried to get down the stairs.   
  
"Would you let me pass?" she asked with exasperation.  
  
"I'm not stopping you," said the voice of the now invisible cat who most definitely WAS stopping her.  
  
"Sure, but I'm not sure there's a better place to talk," said a man walking up the stairs, wearing an outfit of white shells and seaweed.  
  
"A Shelly-coat?" she asked, admiring the costume.  
  
"Live and in the appearance. Is anything wrong? You seemed a bit distracted just now."  
  
"I have been flustered by all the adults acting like children," said Hermione, then kicking herself and hoping not to get caught.  
  
The Shelly-coat laughed and went over to the balcony to look over the room. "Isn't that the point? The charm of beginnings is very real."  
  
Hermione looked down and tried to wrap her mind around the vision of a Prince Charming flirting with the Oracle of Delphi while the Cupid went on making a nuisance of himself. Though Hermione did chuckle: his arrow bounced off a woman surrounded by a flock of admirers. Apparently they were not chatting up a person in a costume, but the stone nymph who held up the mantle of the fireplace.  
  
"I hope you found the reception all you were hoping for," said the Shelly-coat behind Hermione. She looked and was surprised to find him standing close but staring off, as if they were friends and not strangers. Hermione started to pay attention and decided he was neither drunk nor addled by the mob of a party. He was at peace in a socially spinning room.   
  
"The party is a surprise," she said, trying to put things in order in her brain.  
  
"Hopeful ignorance often masks itself as surprises." Hermione tried to parse that and decided he was implying that her answer was insincere.  
  
"I wonder that it is so wild and yet so predictable," she added.  
  
"They're having fun," said the Shelly-coat, turning to look at his giselle companion. "Same as you and your costume."  
  
"And you and yours," she added.  
  
He laughed. "I'm under orders, you must realize," he said.  
  
"How could I know that?"  
  
"Ah. I am sorry to assume. I was given the choice of this or a few worse choices. Which is essentially an order. Why did you take a masque?"  
  
"I couldn't imagine not coming to the ball," she said honestly.  
  
"And yet here you are on a quiet balcony."  
  
"Being anonymous didn't sit right."  
  
"And so here we are, out of sorts with the flock."  
  
"I thought 'mob' while I was down there."  
  
"They're not that bad."  
  
His voice was conversational, not critical. It rang a bell for Hermione, but she couldn't place it. In any case, she decided to give it up and go home. She didn't think she could talk while she hid her identity, making this all unsatisfying.  
  
"The flock," she said carefully, "is our community."  
  
"And easier to feel the belonging while reflecting on it rather than while in the midst."  
  
"Well, that I can understand," Hermione said watching the room critically. But she shivered in shock when his hand settled gently on her back and rotated her around into a gentle waltz.   
  
"I didn't expect that," he said softly.  
  
'Expectations?' thought Hermione, undecided as to whether this was a problem or not. "You'd dance with a giselle?" she said nervously.  
  
"I will never regret dancing with you," he responded. They moved around the space and Hermione decided not to push for answers when she wasn't willing to discuss herself. His hands stayed where they belonged and he didn't trip over her - and these factors also weighed on the side of going with the flow. When the tune ended he hugged her gently before backing off and pointing out a specific costumed person below.  
  
"It's a strange night when the Bean Nighe doesn't raise attention."  
  
"Foretelling death?" asked Hermione, stiffening up.  
  
"I really doubt it's about death at a Sylphides night of beginnings."  
  
"How do you know she's real?"  
  
It was hard to miss that the green washerwoman then looked up at the couple on the balcony and winked.  
  
"A hunch," said the shell-coat with a snort. He looked down at the giselle and gave her a small smile before backing away to lean on the balcony and face the room and not Hermione.  
  
"I once dreamed our marriage would be like this," he waved his hand at nothing. "But we've grown. And now I hope we can be friends in the future. It's sad that we've grown so that we can divorce with understanding."  
  
Hermione's brain was in overdrive and she knew that there was a giant misunderstanding going on here. He seemed waiting for her response, and she wasn't formulating one. Then his eyes focused over her shoulder and he shifted from relaxed to paused, from motion to wait. Even his breathing froze in his chest.   
  
"You cad," said a delicate voice with thick disgust. The Shelly-coat looked back at the giselle to whom he had been speaking, looking her over hard before closing his eyes in what seemed to be a defeat. He backed a trace more away from Hermione before opening his eyes once more and bowing formally.   
  
"Madam," he said with a strange edge, "I am deeply sorry for my forward behavior. I hope you can forgive me and consider it one more error to leave behind on this formal marker of new beginnings."   
  
"Apologize to her?" said the other voice. Hermione turned to look and saw a stunning being. There was a sylph, a real one, at the top of the stairs leading to this balcony. Blond, willowy, and giving off a sense of light and hope. Until looking more clearly at her face which was giving off fury and disgust.  
  
"What have you done to her?" the sylph continued. "You've broken my heart, the customs of my people, and your commitments to me. And now you bring some chit into it, taunting me."  
  
The Shelly-coat looked once more at Hermione with some vague sense of apology in his eyes. "Honest mistake," said Hermione, who then made for the exit. She edged around the real giselle and darted for the stairs. When she stopped to look back from below, the balcony was obscured in a privacy spell.   
  
She noticed the time and realized it was time to let the costumes fade. She waved to Harry and Ron who were chatting with a monk and a miniature whomping willow. They said their farewells and met Hermione at a side exit near the desert table.  
  
"So what happened to you?" asked Ron.  
  
"People took me for a sylph," said Hermione.  
  
The boys laughed with her and the three paused for a moment by the deserts before discretely sneaking out of the party.  
  
tbc 


	5. And Every Advance a Retreat

Les Sylphides, chapter 5: And Every Advance a Retreat  
  
by flax, June 2003  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)   
  
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Snape spoke a small charm to give them a bit of privacy in the face of what was clearly going to be an emotional moment. Melusina Snape on the other hand spared a few moments to wish with all her might that the false Sylph chit and Snape would get what they deserved for stealing her happiness. Just thinking about Snape abandoning her like that made her angrier than she had thought possible.   
  
"I regret being an ass," said Snape. "I don't know why I always am one around you, Melusina."   
  
"An ass. Too bad you couldn't tell me that when we first met," said the sylph, shaking with anger. Her jaw was gripped. Her wings were even tense. Her fists were clenched. "But that wouldn't have gotten you what you wanted."  
  
"I regret that I can't be now who I was when I was twenty."  
  
"You are exactly who you were, selfish and cold."  
  
"Melusina, this really is for the best for both of us."  
  
"Don't try to tell me what's best for 'us' - you gave up the right to use that word when you didn't come down and renew our union in the light of the beginnings."  
  
"Melusina, what future do you think we should aim for."  
  
"There is no 'we' here."  
  
"Yes there is, and that's the problem. Melusina, I want the best for you and for me. So do you. Tell me what you think that looks like."  
  
"You belong with us." Melusina waved her hand to indicate the flock mixing below with the flower and the adults of the local wizarding world.  
  
"You have my loyalty and my heart."  
  
"But you don't come home."  
  
"Both true at the same time."  
  
"We are your people," insisted the sylph.  
  
"Yes," agreed Snape.  
  
"You are hurting me by being so cold. So like a human. I trusted you."  
  
"My constancy is real, but not to be respected. I can not be full hearted in the woods of the sylphs."  
  
"You're not one of them anymore. You are one of us."  
  
"I am me."  
  
"I demand your return, Severus."  
  
"I wish I could, but my heart can't do it, Melusina."  
  
"A Bean Nighe is here. The night is ill omened. Consider what you are bringing down upon yourself."  
  
"She could just as easily being granting three wishes."  
  
"Severus, it is the washerwoman of doom."  
  
"Melusina, you must understand, I am part and parcel of my world. My world is not at peace. I can not now retire to the woods with you."  
  
"You leave me no choice but to declare you gone from the flock."  
  
"Melusina, I regret hurting you."  
  
"And what of the hussy?"  
  
"The who?" asked Snape, confused by this particular turn of accusation.  
  
"The hussy you paraded before me up here."  
  
Snape resisted shrugging or huffing at the mess. He aimed for simple, hoping to defuse at least this much of the misunderstandings. "I don't know who she was. She was here, I expected you, and the rest is me being confused."  
  
Melusina narrowed her eyes and tried to understand the whole picture. Severus, as far as she could sense, did not belong with these humans. And his protests still made no sense to her. "Severus, you are not reconciled with these people. They are not your flock."   
  
"Things are rough right now."  
  
"I don't think you can be a sylph and abide this much misery."  
  
"Melusina, you could do it if you had to."  
  
"I don't think you understand."  
  
"Both of us, all of us, are built to find where we belong and then do what it takes to stay there."  
  
"You belong in my life."  
  
"Visit me here."  
  
"I can't leave the flock."  
  
"Then we have a problem."  
  
Melusina walked angrily about the balcony while Snape stood impassive. This was her way of thinking, he knew from experience, and that she'd started pacing meant she had begun to consider possibilities.  
  
"Go. I'll take care of it. But never return."  
  
"Or you'll rip me to shreds?"  
  
"The fate of the threats to unity."  
  
"I am not. But I accept that you think so now. If it is a husband you want, I hope you find better than me." Snape was trying very hard, and was wearing out. But soon, he knew, he could relax in private, this over, never to hurt his ex wife again.  
  
"So busy with your world and your causes," she said with anger.  
  
"I wish they didn't burn in my mind," he said.  
  
"Leave me," she said. Snape turned to go. That she could begin to let him go was, he hoped, the beginning of some sort of conclusion that she could make peace with. He bowed and left while Melusina remained to brood and grieve a bit more. Glaring at the room, she spotted the false sylph and felt inspiration. Melusina threw a pair of curses into the air. Somewhat heartened, she returned to the ball proper and the comfort of kith and kin. "I wish the second one embarrasses him no end," she mutters.  
  
The first curse drifted, looking for a chance to land on Granger, twisting and turning, dodging and swerving until it got an opening. But as it dove for its target, one of the multitude of spell catchers wafted through the air, caught it in its threads, making of the sylph's curse one more crystal bead upon its spider web net of silk charms. Granger will not sprout donkey ears during this event. The other curse sees this and lurks in the shadows until it can land upon its goal, Severus Snape, outside the protection of these spell catchers.  
  
Oblivious to this farewell gesture, Snape returned to the party and scouted out the green washerwoman, the Bean Nighe. "Good evening to you," he said to her.  
  
"And to you, Master Snape. My how you have grown," she replied.  
  
"Not in height since we met, certainly. But to know my limits. Yes," he said.  
  
"I always knew you would go far," replied the green woman kindly, part teasing, part affection.  
  
"So are you here with wishes or death?" he asked, getting to the point.  
  
"You imply a difference," she replied in her best mystic tone. Then she waved his annoyed reply down. "Two granted and one to go, and that's a far more lucid answer than anyone should ever expect from me."  
  
"Yes it is and thank you. About that final wish--" Snape started, before she cut him off.  
  
"Leave it to someone else," she said vaguely. She patted his arm and got a huffy glare in response. "Oh, look, you've been hit," she said laughing.  
  
Snape looked down to see the cupid's arrow emanating from his chest.   
  
"Do you love me now?" asked the Bean Nighe, plastering herself politely to Snape's side.  
  
"Always, auntie," he growled in reply, pushing her back, but not unwrapping her arm from his. Then he pulled out the arrow, thinking to plant it back in face of the erstwhile cupid. Cupid bounced up and thanked him for the arrow back. When Snape recognized Cupid, it didn't help. He was left with nothing to do but give his headmaster the blackest stare he could, one that petrified students and horrified parents.  
  
The Bean Nighe laughed and merry Cupid thanked Snape, bouncing off to shoot more guests. Snape turned and bowed to the washerwoman, wishing her well and taking his leave.  
  
"Give it at least a year before you even consider getting in touch with the flock," said the green woman.  
  
"I thought I'd let them make the first move," replied Snape.  
  
"You're the one with a vision of a future, and that means you've got responsibilities," said the washerwoman, knowing how he would respond.  
  
Snape pressed his lips together, glared, and said farewell. She smiled to see him go, he was too easy to tease. The Bean Nighe then turned to find the Oracle of Delphi on her left. They compared notes on what it was to tell people things they weren't going to hear.  
  
------------------  
  
In a corridor outside the party, at about midnight, and ready to return to his role as controlling professor, Snape let his costume charm fade. His black robes swirled at his feet and his black hair clumped upon his head. And he could hear children in the corridor, where they did not belong. And then he realized it was the annoying trio. 'Cupid's favorite brats,' he thought to himself. Things felt right.  
  
He let his gait whisper as he approached, hissing at them loudly as they turned the corner and nearly collided with him: "Is there any rule you self righteous children won't break? SILENCE!" It was the trio and they seemed a bit surprised to be caught. Snape felt a small bit of satisfaction.  
  
"Thirty points a piece from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. You are out after tonight's curfew. Look forward to Dumbledore's 'special' detentions next week. I am. Go to your dorm NOW before I choose to take points for your disrespect." He raised his brows at the three, noticing the boys' growing anger and the girl's ... sorrow?  
  
"NOW," he thundered, dismissing them and their issues from his mind.   
  
The trio did as told. Hermione simply kept up with Ron and Harry, silently trying to understand what had gone on tonight.   
  
Snape was clearly the Shelly-coat. And he was a decent person when chatting on the balcony. Sympathetic. Hermione was happier when she could feel unrequited affection for an anonymous man from a masque ball. That would have been romantic. This was something completely different.  
  
"What's wrong," asked Ron back at the tower.  
  
"I met adults who clearly need help. Or better friends," replied Hermione.  
  
Harry laughed. "It kills me sometimes that this is supposed to be maturity."  
  
"I hope it works out for them," finished Hermione.  
  
-------------------------  
  
a/n : thanks Fey. :) I'm trying! 


	6. Not Just Children Can Be Cruel

Les Sylphides, chapter 6: Not Just Children Can be Cruel  
  
by flax, June 2003  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)   
  
(I'm trying to finish by the 20th - when the new book comes out and completely changes the landscape - here's hoping! :) )  
  
-------------------  
  
Hermione and Harry wandered into the great hall for Saturday breakfast, finding Ron pouring over someone's copy of _The_Daily_Prophet_. The room was unusually crowded for a Saturday breakfast - but as everyone had "volunteered" for the lectures and discussions today, it wasn't that much a surprise.  
  
"Just like a school day," grumped Harry.  
  
"I hope it's actually worth the time," muttered Hermione back.  
  
"You're not going to believe this," said Ron, rearranging the paper and tossing it to his friends. Hermione and Harry looked, and were surprised by what they saw.  
  
The headlines were: "SYLPHES ABANDON DIPLOMATIC TALKS, CORNELIUS FUDGE DISMAYED AND OFFENDED, Hogwarts Site of Yet Another Scandal, What are They Teaching the Children?"  
  
Harry and Hermione skimmed the article fast, as did most of the rest of the room, soaking up the details of what went on after they'd left the party. Apparently the Sylphs didn't follow the protocols that Fudge had worked out. "Protocols?" scoffed Harry. "They must not have read about sylphs when they thought they'd follow 'protocols.' "  
  
"It's Fudge we're talking about. He's just mad that he didn't get a picture of himself shaking a sylph's hand," replied Ron.  
  
"Why not? He was there, they were there," asked Hermione.  
  
"Well, there's a picture of him in costume," said Ron, laughing.   
  
"Oh No," said Harry laughing. Hermione's eyes bugged out and Ron laughed some more. She glared and they put their hands up, promising not to tell.  
  
There was a picture of "The Green Man" dancing with a sylph - and the green man was Cornelius Fudge (in costume) according to the caption. And the sylph was Hermione in costume - which was not indicated by the caption.   
  
"So did he trip over your feet?" asked Ron.  
  
"Did he bore you to tears?" asked Harry.  
  
"He was an idiot!" said Hermione. "And we are *NEVER* discussing this."  
  
The boys laughed and that was an end to that. Ron pointed out the useless gossip page had even better stuff - snippets of who was seen with whom information - social register stuff, made more interesting by the complete lack of data as to who was in which costume. "And there's a quote from the Cupid here," said Harry laughing. He read on: " 'Nothing helps relationships more than a little good hearted good cheer,' said the Cupid, urging this writer to dance with a Ceuranos. And What Fun We Had! We should listen to Cupid more often.'"  
  
The trio laughed. "I bet Dumbledore would boot that guy out the door," laughed Ron.   
  
"I bet Dumbledore booted them all out the door when the party was over," laughed Hermione.  
  
"I don't even want to know what that looked like," laughed Harry.  
  
Hermione returned to the front article about the Minister of Magic. "I am especially disappointed that the wizards with connections to the Sylphs didn't even try to support our diplomatic goals," the article quoted Fudge. "Instead, they supported their own selfish agendas." The article went on to highlight the announcement of Severus Snape's dismissal from the Sylph flock and divorce from one of its members. "Sometimes we need teamwork to get things done," the article quoted Fudge further, "and the teamwork just isn't there. I just hope this is a case of someone being foolish and not of someone trying to ruin the Sylph/Wizarding accords."  
  
"This gossip is on the main page," whispered Hermione to Ron.  
  
"What do you expect? It's _Fudge_," replied Ron.  
  
"It's gossip," she whispered back.  
  
"Deflects attention from his insignificance to the whole event," muttered Ron quietly. "He probably was happy to have an excuse to leave in a huff."  
  
"He left in a huff?" asked Harry.  
  
"The Hufflepuff's saw it - right outside their dorm rooms. He slammed doors, refused to shake Dumbledore's hand, threw a fit, the whole nine yards. Accused Snape of having an affair with another woman and parading it in front of his sylph wife," said Ron.   
  
"That's not true!" said Hermione, shocked.  
  
"Ick, the idea of Snape married is bad enough," replied Ron.  
  
"Let's not talk about Snape's life?" said Harry with distaste.  
  
"Just one more thing - Snape apparently laughed his head off when Fudge accused him of scuttling the talks that way. Makes me almost respect the guy," finished Ron.  
  
Harry laughed as did Hermione, nervously, and they moved to finish their breakfasts. "So how good a dancer was Fudge," murmured Harry to Hermione.  
  
"We're not talking about this," murmured Hermione back with a glare.  
  
The boys laughed.  
  
Dumbledore stood at the end of breakfast and announced the sad news that the sylphes had left for their migration, and there would be no extra lectures or discussions today. A minor cheer went up through the hall, which was extinguished somewhat in the face of professorial table glares. Dumbledore went on to further extinguish it, announcing that in lieu of all the various detentions earned last night, and as everyone was free today, everyone had just volunteered for "spring cleaning." The universal cheer turned into a universal groan. Which was far more acceptable response to the news that the Sylphs had flown.  
  
"I hate spring cleaning," said Hermione to Ron.  
  
"I just hope I get someplace remotely interesting this year," he whispered back.  
  
"The lists assigning you each to various details will be available after breakfast in your common rooms, I expect you all to pitch in, and have a great day," concluded the headmaster. Who had just lost popularity points with the student body. As was traditional following that announcement every year.  
  
Spring-cleaning was the day that every corridor, every classroom, every public area was crawled over and checked for unintended spells. Such tended to accumulate, and once a year, Hogwarts cleaned house. That the professors did this again in the off year was never spelled out, but it seemed likely.  
  
"Here we go again," grumped Hermione, binding up her hair and putting on her old robes. Last year during spring-cleaning, she was crawling in the bric-a-brac on the library ceiling, chasing a page-turner spell. This year she didn't want to give the spells a place to hide. The one in her hair last year was just too annoying.  
  
She met the boys downstairs and found to her dismay she'd been assigned the potions lab. They were back in the library again. "Ugh," she said.   
  
"It's what you get for being a good student," laughed Harry.  
  
"I regret it, I regret it," she muttered.  
  
In the potions lab she met a small group of students, being organized by a seventh year, Marvyn Clander. A Ravenclaw doing his seventh year project with Snape. "Yeah, and ask me or one of the other seventh years questions if you can, and not Snape. Spring cleaning goes better when he doesn't get involved," he said. "Welcome to the fifth and sixth years joining us today. It's a dubious honor: someone trusts you to clean hexes without messing up his lab too badly."  
  
"What do you mean messing up the lab too badly," asked a nervous student.  
  
"Well, the hexes do tend to knock over ingredients and equipment as they try to get away from us," said Clander. "Try to avoid disasters. Since you've been picked for this detail, you probably have a concept of what a disaster is and how to avoid it."  
  
"Oh my," thought Hermione.  
  
"For any real disasters, we call in the professor, but let's avoid that," said another Seventh year named Georgina Midriss. She passed out a list of zone assignments, did a quick mapping spell, and reviewed the de-hexing procedure. Hermione got assigned the third year shelves and went to work, finding and attempting to diffuse stray hexes.  
  
"There are more hexes in here than the other classrooms combined," whispered one of the sixth years to her as they met at the margin of their zones.   
  
"Hey," said Clander. Hermione and the other student blinked. "We don't want company," finished Clander. "Save it for after we're done."  
  
They grinned and carried on.   
  
Eventually Snape swept in and glared at the students all over his lab. He glared even though they were his handpicked choices, even though he did think they wouldn't destroy the area. He narrowed his eyes, gave a cursory glance, called the work adequate, asked if his desk was done, and assured that it was, he sat down, pulled out papers and began grading.  
  
The incongruity of it surprised Hermione. "Doesn't he have to oversee lots of this today?" she asked the seventh year who gave out the zone assignments.  
  
"Questioning my methods, Granger? 10 points from Gryffindor. But I will take more points for shoddy work," he said without looking up from the papers he was marking. Hermione blinked and the student she'd addressed just gave a quick shake of her head and mouthed "later."  
  
They broke for lunch, a quick bite in the great hall. While there the seventh years filled in the newer kids on how this worked. Apparently Snape detracted points, but surreptitiously put them back after this particular exercise. "All we can ever figure is that he doesn't want to seem to favor his potions majors," said Rogers, a Slytherin seventh year. They all laughed at the incongruity of Snape favoring _anyone_ before returning to try to finish the classroom. The topic of his social life never came up, except for the students to laugh and be thankful that he wasn't angrier. "I expected the worse," said Clander, "and this is just normal." Then they returned together to finish up the day's cleaning project.  
  
Snape was gone when they got back ("To look over the work," explained Clander.) They settled back in, and were at it a good hour. Hermione had gotten into a small battle with a "hint spell" when she began to consider that it might be worth the "disaster" and the sacrifice of a few bottles of student's supplies... the door opened - though Hermione didn't look. She wasn't going to miss this hex if it moved again. Snape muttered over her shoulder that Gryffindors never could understand strategy. Hermione turned to look up, somewhat miffed, when the hex broke cover. Snape grabbed it and dismissed it. "Try to be a bit less direct, Granger, and you might actually get something done," he said turning and retiring back into grading.   
  
One of the Hufflepuffs winked at Hermione who shook her head and rolled her eyes. "10 points for disrespect to a professor, Miss Candice," said Snape, not looking up. Miss Candice now rolled her eyes and Hermione giggled. The day wore on, and Snape went off to do his round a few more times. While he was gone Clander declared them done. The room read clean, and once Snape showed up again, they could all be dismissed and get at least an hour before dinner. When Snape didn't return, they discussed their various projects. And then what they thought of store bought potions. And then Quiddich, their professors, and the ball last night. Which all came to a halt when Snape returned.  
  
"I take it you're done?" asked Snape of Clander.  
  
"Yes, Professor Snape. The room tests clean of unregistered spells," said Clander.  
  
Snape went and sat down again. And invited Clander to run the test for Snape to see. Which he did. And a hex showed up.   
  
Clander blinked, Snape glowered, the other students looked nervous. Clander ran the locator spell, and found it at Snape's desk. And then found it on Snape. Which didn't make the professor look any happier.  
  
Snape angrily dismissed his preferred students, calling their work passable, their efforts acceptable. They left, and Hermione managed to asked Clander what that final hex was. Clander insisted they get a bit further from the classroom before he talked, and they moved from the dungeons to the lawn. "I think it's a transformation spell," said Clander.   
  
"It was," said Midriss giggling.  
  
"Did you get a look at it? All I could see was that it had a love trigger," said Clander.  
  
She laughed at that, and then explained, "I think it's going to turn him into an ass, but I missed the trigger" she said. "So I'm guessing, if he feels some passion, he turns into a donkey."   
  
The students laughed a bit. "Shouldn't we do something?" asked Hermione of Candice.   
  
"Do what? I'm sure it won't be a problem for him," she laughed.  
  
"Oh, I hope I don't have to mention, I don't want to be reading about this in the Daily Prophet," said Clander menacingly to the group of students. "It's bad enough with him moody now - we don't need to make it worse for him, and then us. Is that clear?" He matched eyes with each of the new assistants, sixth and fifth years. "He's our professor, and there's no need to give him up to the gossip harpies," he finished as they nodded.   
  
Following this he invited the new students to join them for the monthly get together when they both discussed and complained about potions. "Snape doesn't attend," he assured the new invitees.  
  
"Usually," added Midriss darkly. They all rolled their eyes.   
  
The students went on their ways, Hermione back to her own common room. She thought it was a hopeless wish to keep news of this hex quiet, but she planned to do so herself. Oddly enough, it wasn't hopeless, and news of Snape's hex died in the slush pile of gossip, details unknown, never making it to be an accepted rumor. Apparently there was some potion-professor - potions-students loyalty. Because it can't be called affection, precisely. Though none of the house points lost during the cleaning of the lab stayed gone for long. 


	7. Dreaming Hexes

Les Sylphides, chapter 7: Dreaming Hexes  
  
by flax, June 2003  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)   
  
a/n: I was trying to model my Granger/Snape thing on the Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin friendship. I tried to make this story a mystery in order to highlight that, but it didn't work. Perhaps next time.  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Snape had to make a choice. And he wasn't one to get help if he could avoid it. So either he weathered Melusina's hex, to see what she'd thrown at him, or he pulled it off and dismissed it now. The obvious choice was to pull it off and dismiss it. But Snape wasn't in his twenties anymore and he'd known Melusina too long and to well to ignore her parting shot. He was faintly curious what she was thinking about things. And whether it was salvagable.  
  
There, he admitted it. To himself at least. Bah.  
  
Melusina did give him the chance to laugh at Cornelius Fudge at four in the morning on the steps of Hogwarts in front of lots of people. Which shaped up to be a pleasant memory. So she deserved a free shot.  
  
Snape lay down and tried to let it have its way with him, and it pulled him into slumber and dreams.  
  
It was all fairly predictable, as Snape relived in a dreamscape Melusina's version of their life together. When they met, when they courted, when they engaged, danced, married, and when he left her. That figured large in the first half of the dream. Snape did have to cringe to see the caricature of himself that Melusina provided for this dream - his walk on self seemed a bit too tall, a bit to angular, a bit to crass. But mirrors from the hurt spouse are often unflattering. Snape also watched snippets of his visits, her visits, and bits of her life where he was missing. Occasions she thought he should have been there. Holidays, troubles, the sorts of things couples ought to be able to depend on each other for, and he wasn't there.  
  
The whole dream took on a frustrated angry cast, and Snape wasn't surprised, but stuck it out to the end. There was no way that _this_ was Melusina's dramatic gesture: a mere catalogue of what had not happened. She'd already done that by mail. Then the dream resolved into the ball from the night before, her entrance, her spotting him, her going up to the balcony, and her witnessing Snape cherishing some other woman who was dressed as a Sylph.  
  
And suddenly Snape got it. Melusina would get over him being an idiot. The problem was that she thought he was ok with the farewell: she'd heard him say farewell to the other woman, and she felt boxed in. Cornered into a divorce. Snape sniffed in the dream, watching it all unwind again - disagreeing with Melusina's vision of his behavior. He had _not_ been tender. OK, maybe a bit soft. Snape tried to stop getting defensive in the face of no accuser but rather a free floating hex. He had nothing to make up with this spell - only with Melu, if possible, at a later date.  
  
So Melusina was angry at the peaceable vision of their break up. Fine, he could handle that. And she was worried that he actually did feel things for other women, evidenced by his ability to tenderly break up, when it wasn't her. Heh. He could disabuse her of that, too, he was fairly certain.  
  
One thing the flocking was good for - Melusina knew he wasn't lying when they talked. The problem to date was figuring out what were the issues that were dividing them. Oddly enough, they were quite a match, both of them a trace too driven and clueless for their own good. Six of one, half dozen another, welcome to my life, thought Snape, aware that he was still waiting for the curse's grand finale. Melusina didn't throw this hex to communicate, despite this being how they often did communicate. (Might want to work on that, he thought to himself.) So Snape was still waiting for the moment when he'd have to decide whether to laugh or groan.  
  
He watched himself dancing with the woman in masquerade, and thought for a moment whether or not he was going to be learning yet more intimate details of his life in the gossip papers. There was something uniquely annoying about finding things out that way. But in the dream Snape got a better glance at his dance partner - the dream was coming from Melusina's perspective, and Melusina was not confused as to this young woman's identity. And Snape now groaned.   
  
He'd mistaken a student for his wife. And the clues had been there if he'd only been paying attention. Odd how a teenager reflecting on adults would mirror a sylph reflecting on wizarding customs. And in both cases, communication had been at an all time minimum. "I might as well give up trying to be sensitive" thought Snape whimsically, "I don't socialize any better." He looked more pointedly and realized which student. It could have been much worse, he realized, and then dismissed Miss Granger from the dreamscape.   
  
At which point he felt the hex dig in. The vision of Melusina laughing burned as he woke from the dream, stuck. His body was suddenly unfamiliar and the world was even stranger. When he tried to get up, he rocked on unknown limbs. And an echo of Melusina's hex echoed in his ears. He must be an ass now.   
  
(First, talk to Melusina about spending more time together. Second, stop trying to be social. Third, damage control with Granger. Fourth, get body back.)  
  
Snape looked in a mirror, and sure enough, looking back at him from a mirror, was a big brown ugly donkey. Snape thought to huff, it came out a bray, and he cringed, and it came out a full body shake. He decided to move point four on the to-do list up to point one.  
  
After a few tries at this himself, the choices seemed to be Poppy or Albus. Of which, under the circumstances, he preferred his old friend. Even if he'd been a complete annoyance with his bow, arrows, and humor the other night. Even if the old man had been pulling for a romantic reconciliation. (As if either Melu or I ever did romance?, thought Snape.) Snape shuffled off his bed and to a table, bit on a portkey and let himself dissolve into Albus Dumbledore's office. Being a risk taking spy for the old man did come with some benefits.   
  
Though the friendship probably meant more. 


	8. Whatever, Albus

Les Sylphides, chapter 8: Whatever, Albus  
  
by flax, June 2003  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)  
  
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Snape stood in Albus' office, and was sure that Faulks was laughing. Which did not help his mood any, either. Snape was unsteady enough on his legs that he leaned on a wall and waited, feeling something between humiliation, weariness, and general ire at the dang happy bird.  
  
"Severus? I guess it could have been worse," came the familiar old voice as Snape rolled his eyes, his head, his neck, and all sorts of other anatomy over which he had awkward control. He only meant to roll his eyes.   
  
Dumbledore was in a dressing gown, and cheerily heating up some water for tea. He greeted Fawlks who seemed nonplused now that Dumbledore had arrived. Severus dearly wished he could growl. The whole braying thing didn't do it for him.  
  
"As I don't have a trough, I expect you'll forgive me for forgoing offering you tea just this moment? But perhaps you'd like a lemon drop?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled into Severus' grumpy ones and the donkey simply sniffed. And swayed in a general negative response. "Well then, let's have a look at you," said the headmaster, finally focusing on the issue at hand to Severus' relief. Dumbledore walked around his friend, patting him gently on the back and running his fingers through the tiny mane.  
  
Severus pawed the ground. And then glared at his hoof. This was not how he liked to protest.  
  
Dumbledore laughed and crossed to be in front of Snape. "There are a few ways we could do this, as you know. You can drink some light which remained after the Sylph ceremony, or you could let me hack through the transfiguration the old fashioned way. Which means exactly what it sounds like. Melusina is a competent hand with the curses."  
  
Snape glared, sighed and made a gesture as if he'd decided. "The light?" asked Dumbledore and Snape huffed a yes motion.  
  
"Poppy could hack the curse off a bit more gently, I suspect," added Dumbledore, to which Snape generally made the no motion, swaying his head.  
  
"The light it is," said Dumbledore, going into his closet for the small cup of light which had remained dancing around in the eves of the great hall after the ball had ended. "Do you want the whole speech about new beginnings and fresh starts? I could clear a space for you to do the traditional Quadrille that goes with this..." teased the headmaster, while holding the cup down for Snape to lap up. The donkey glared before drinking, and soon began the morph back into his own body, dressed for bed and feeling a bit stressed.  
  
Snape sat, getting his bearings back, while Dumbledore poured and served the tea. Then he took a seat himself.  
  
"Do you want personal advice?" asked the headmaster, rhetorically.   
  
Snape didn't even give a response, wrapping himself in the tea and comfort of companionship.  
  
"I assume you'll be ok with her joining us here this summer," said Snape finally.  
  
"I'll be delighted. And I promise not to dredge the pond while she's molting this time."  
  
Snape laughed. "I don't expect the two of you to sprout new personalities on my behalf."  
  
"So what happened?" asked the headmaster.  
  
"I think she finally understood what a threat Voldemort was. You know there were two sylphs killed late last year."  
  
"I didn't realize the sylphs connected that back to Voldemort."  
  
"They don't. Melusina does."  
  
"So divorcing you?"  
  
"She was always one for dramatics when she is actually scared."  
  
"The two of you were adorable during the courtship."  
  
Snape glared over his tea cup. There were few people who got to say that to him. But no one got to say it without the glare. Too bad it had no effect on Dumbledore who simply chuckled. Old friends. How many did he have left? Albus, Melusina, Minerva, a handful of the old school network. The war had fractured them all, dividing even friends.  
  
"I wouldn't listen too closely to the Bean Nighe," mentioned Albus.  
  
"I never listen to people giving me personal advice," growled Severus.  
  
"Good!" replied Albus with a mischievous smile. "So how did the hex take? I hear it was a [i]luuuuuuuuv[/i] trigger."  
  
Snape groaned and sank into the chair. The night just got worse. "How well known is that?" he asked.  
  
"A few students, don't worry. I don't think it's going anywhere, and they don't need to know that it worked out."  
  
"Good. And it wasn't love."  
  
"Really? Do tell a vicariously interested old friend."  
  
"Nothing to tell," he muttered, finishing his tea.  
  
"I didn't hear that clearly," said the headmaster.  
  
"I didn't say it clearly," said the potions master.  
  
Dumbledore just smiled merrily. "I could guilt trip you," he said.  
  
"Not on this," said Snape with a glare.  
  
A pause dragged on.  
  
"Why do you want to know?" asked Snape.  
  
"You are a friend of mine. You are like a son to me," started Dumbledore, waving at Snape as if to silence him while all the man did was roll his eyes. "I think you have a chance at domestic bliss. And I don't want to leave you tied up in knots in the face of trying to straighten things out with your wife."  
  
"Ex wife."  
  
"She never actually performed the final ritual."  
  
"Oh, lovely."  
  
"Yes, indeed. That whole spitting on a person in life sized effigy is hard to miss. I'm pretty sure I would have seen it if happened."  
  
"She sent a dream that put me through her version of our marriage, ending with the to-do on the balcony, where she, I believe, was upset not for my mistaking another woman for her, which I allow was pretty bad, but rather that I broke up with that other woman so peaceably."   
  
"A break up which she told you in advance to provide on cue."  
  
"You're bringing up logic."  
  
"Melusina tends to be very logical. Except maybe about you."  
  
"Well, there is that. And when I got annoyed in the dream and tossed, oh did you know it was Miss Granger?, tossed the false Melusina out, the hex took."  
  
"Why do you think that was?" asked the headmaster, himself thinking it through. "Love for Melusina? or some affections for Miss Granger. Is that what miffed Melusina?"  
  
"Please," said Snape cringing. "To the students we are no more than replacement authorities as they grow out of needing such."  
  
"Doesn't quite answer the question. And I assure you that you don't want to hear this from me."  
  
Snape thought. And then paused horrified. Dumbledore refilled his tea cup.  
  
"Is Melusina going to resent my students?" he asked with a trace of fear.  
  
"No. But I would recommend letting her get to know them somewhat."  
  
Snape blinked at Dumbledore with a trace of surprise.  
  
"It's time to give up the old superstitions ... do you really need me to give this speech now?" asked Dumbledore. Assuming a no answer, which Snape wasn't up for giving, Dumbledore continued. "Those potion majors of yours get together about once a month - she might enjoy some of those meetings. I believe they like you and bitch about you."  
  
"You old fiend."  
  
"Ah, you see how it can work out."  
  
"I never like being so needy, Albus," said Severus, beginning to leave.  
  
"Your portkey has teeth marks," mentioned Dumbledore, carefully picking it up in a napkin and handing it over. "And if an old lady friend of mine ever cared enough to turn me into a donkey, I'd be braying at your door at any hour of the night."  
  
"Yes, but somehow I imagine you'd be gleeful about it."  
  
"Of course! It means she cares!"  
  
The two men shared a smile, the one open and the other under cover of glare, and then Severus charmed himself robes and took himself off, back to his rooms. The long way, as he had some thinking to do. 


	9. Epilogue: Dancing with Giselles

Les Sylphides, chapter 9: Dancing with Giselles (Epilogue)  
  
by flax, June 2003  
  
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Hermione Granger was cutting up the clover roots, only generally concentrating on this beginning to her potions project. If she got this done today, it would be ready for the more involved steps tomorrow.  
  
And for whatever reason, her professor choose now to be puttering down at the front of the room himself. Which left her mostly uncomfortable. She'd decided to not bring up the whole mistaken identity thing - she wasn't supposed to be at the party at all, even though _everyone_ had gone. And she'd gotten caught after curfew, and she'd done her detention. But still, there was something deeply awkward about adults and their lives, and Hermione didn't know how to say anything, and wasn't sure there was anything for her to say.  
  
She was looking surreptitiously at the focus of her ambivalence when he growled out, "Spare me the comedy routine, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione blinked rather shocked at her clover roots.  
  
"I was trying to figure how to offer sympathy, professor," she said, wrinkling her brow and not looking up.  
  
"If you ever want a free evening in the library here again, you will not mention this again," said the professor looking up.  
  
Surprised, she looked up too, thinking he was being a real jerk.   
  
And then he laughed, looking back down at his work.  
  
And Hermione decided adults are clearly from a different planet.  
  
"Why were the sylphs here, Miss Granger?" he asked, beginning to mix ingredients down at his table.  
  
Granger puts her cutter down and says, "to see the light of the window?"  
  
"And why do that?" he returned.  
  
"That was unclear," replied Granger.  
  
"I expect a hypothesis, Miss Granger."  
  
"Well there was a legend," she began, stopping when he snorted with disdain, but then kept up when he clearly waited for a response. "They have a species migration that they make together, and drinking in some light all at the same time was part of it."  
  
"So why were the sylphs doing it here?"  
  
Granger paused. There was nothing she and the boys could figure was special about the window when they saw it. The light clearly came from and around the sylphs. So none of this made sense, unless the sylphs had a personal reason to come do this at Hogwarts - the window was incidental. And then Padma and Parvati's little bit about no sylphs left behind came to mind. "I don't think I want to discuss this, sir," she said carefully.  
  
Snape looked down but Hermione was pretty sure that he wasn't sneering or glaring. "Alas," he said, "the library will still be overused for the rest of the year." Granger got back to work, happy to have both admitted and not discussed things. "Watch your lines, those grape leaves should be even," he growled from the front of the room.  
  
Hermione looked at her perfectly even cut up grape leaves. And there was no way Snape could see that. "Why Hogwarts?" she asked.  
  
"Can you think of another place that could cope with a couple hundred beings who have a great deal of power, and a near childlike understanding of responsibility? And don't round the measurements, Miss Granger."  
  
(I'm not rounding my measurements, she thought with a snarl.)   
  
"I didn't hear that, Miss Granger," he taunted.  
  
"I didn't say anything, professor," she replied.  
  
"They say dancing with giselles is intensely frustrating and leads to unpleasant moments of clarity, Miss Granger," he said, pouring off his caldron and beginning to clean up. "But I believe rather that the giselles have a different sense of time. They don't bargain with the future the way humans do."  
  
Granger blinked. "Which frustrates humans?"  
  
Snape laughed. "That's what I hear."  
  
Snape cleaned up and ceased giving Granger advice she didn't need.  
  
FINIS. 


End file.
